Listen to Your Father
by Yunagirlamy
Summary: One-shot with Haytham and Connor. A four-year-old Connor wants to play a game with his father in the busy streets with Haytham but Haytham isn't in the mood to play games. Warning: contains physical discipline of a minor.


**Author's notes: I typed this out in about five hours or so, but with **_**massive**_** breaks in-between that consisted of playing Final Fantasy X HD and I think possibly some Assassin's Creed III. I don't know, I can't remember, lol. All right, so this one-shot is set in an AU (obviously) where Ziio stayed with Haytham and they're raising Connor together. I apologise if Connor is out of character, but since we see about half-an-hours' worth of him as a child I think I'm off the hook for any mistakes with his character. **_**Warning: **_**contains physical discipline of a minor. **

**Disclaimer: All Assassin's Creed characters do not belong to me.**

That _blasted_ boy—where had he got off to now? He swore he had only taken his eyes off the four-year-old for _five_ measly seconds; but perhaps that was all the child needed to slip away from his father. Said father scanned the busy Boston crowds for his small son, but that didn't mean he would be there. The boy, thanks to his mother, was quite good at climbing trees, too. Fortunately, there weren't too many of those in the centre of Boston.

"Connor!" Haytham cried out, his voice loud and stern. He hoped the child would respond to the name his father had given him. Lord knew his _real_ name—Ratonhnhaké:ton—was far too much for the English native to wrap his tongue around. "_Connor_! Damn it, boy, where are you!?"

Then, some giggling. Haytham swiftly turned on his heel, just quick enough to see his mischievous boy run in the opposite direction and into crowds. _So the boy is playing a game with me. Wrong choice, boy._ Haytham moved quickly in the direction Connor went. _That boy will regret his actions once I catch up with him._

"Raké:ni!" the boy called as he shortly turned, "Catch up with me!"

Haytham sighed and placed his hands on his hips. People were staring now, wondering why a child was speaking like a Native American. "Connor, I am _not_ going to chase after you any longer," he scolded, frustrated, "Now come _here_." He knew exactly how to punish the child; his father would do the same to him.

Connor giggled and shook his head. He ran off again, causing Haytham to produce another sigh. "Your mother shall not be pleased when she hears about this, Connor!" Haytham warned as he followed after Connor but his words did not cause the boy alarm. "Connor Kenway, if you listen and return to me this instant your punishment shall be much easier on you!" _Those_ words only made Connor shoot off quicker - probably the mention of a punishment. "Lord help me..." Haytham muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I promise your mother _won't_ like this."

Connor stopped and turned to face his father. _Big mistake for you, boy. _"Ista will! Ista will!" he yelled, jumping up and down, fists curled up. Haytham strode over and scooped the disobedient child into his arms. "No, Daddy, put me down, put me _down_!" the child screeched, kicking his legs. "OW!" he suddenly yelled as Haytham landed a hard swat on his behind.

"Listen, Connor, my father would not have put up with this sort of behaviour from me and I will _not_ put up with it from _you_," Haytham remarked, tone stern. "Now, I am going to place you down and you are _not_ to run off. Do you understand?"

Connor pouted and crossed his arms.

"_Do you understand_?" Haytham repeated.

"Fine, I understand," Connor muttered.

"Good." Haytham righted Connor and put him down on the ground. "Now, we are going to—CONNOR!" The child had taken off once more, much quicker this time. "CONNOR KENWAY!"

"Bye, Daddy!" the child yelled.

"You little brat," Haytham growled. He loved the boy, truly he did, but right now the child was testing his patience. He tried keeping his eyes on the child but the crowd was too busy, an easy place for a child to slip away from his angry father. _Goddamn it, Connor. _But now, Haytham was growing more worried than angry. He knew that the Red Coats would _not_ take kindly to a lonesome Native American child, even if the child _was_ half English. They knew that, but they weren't overly fond of Haytham.

Haytham scanned his surroundings, the world now turning blue. Connor was definitely _not_ there anymore. The English father cursed under his breath and let his vision go normal now. Well, at least he was near the Green Dragon. If they were not too busy he could ask his Templar brothers—no, _order them_—to look for his errant son. He stormed into the tavern, taking no care about the gasps and mutters from the usuals, and upstairs where his Templar brothers where.

"Haytham," Charles greeted, "You seem upset. What's troubling you?"

"Connor," Haytham breathed, concern in his voice.

"Ah. The child," Charles nodded.

"Yes, _my_ child," Haytham said protectively, "He has run off from me, determined to cause me an early death!"

"You were hoping for our assistance, Master?" Charles assumed.

"Yes, I was," Haytham replied, "I dread to think what the Red Coats would do should they get hold of him."

"Don't think ye need to worry too long, 'Aytham," came the indistinguishable voice of Thomas Hickey behind him. Haytham turned—and relief flooded him. Being held by the arm was his struggling son, not seeming to be bothered about the predicament he was in. "Found 'im trying ta pickpocket."

"_Connor_!" Haytham scolded, sending a firm look to his child. "What _were_ you thinking?" The child then began shouting something in his Native language. "Connor, please speak in English." Connor shook his head and even stuck his tongue out at his father.

"Hmph," Charles started, "The natives are all the s—" Haytham turned and gave the man a deathly glare.

"Are all _what_, Charles?" Haytham asked in a dangerous tone. Charles was silent. "Oh? Aren't you going to finish your sentence? I'm sure my four-year-old son would _love_ to hear your opinion." Charles shook his head. "As I thought." He turned back to face Connor. "Connor, we're going home," he announced, taking his son away from Thomas. "Gentleman, I shall see you all tomorrow." He nodded to the men and then practically dragged Connor down the stairs and out of the tavern.

"Raké:ni, I'm sorry," Connor mumbled, but Haytham clearly heard him.

"I imagine you will be even more so once I am through with you," Haytham said. He was not going to show any mercy to the child, nor any sympathy—At least, not yet. That would come _after_ the punishment. "I expect you to be silent and obedient on the walk back home. If you are not, I shall not hesitate to deliver your punishment right here." Connor just nodded. "Good boy."

As Haytham wanted Connor did not say a word or perform a disobedient action. All he did was keep his head down and his hand in his father's. Haytham felt sorry for the boy, knowing what he was in for. He knew that feeling all too well.

They arrived at the house and Haytham let go of Connor's hand and gently pushed him into the house. The father and son were instantly greeted by Kaniehtí:io, Connor's mother.

"Haytham, Ratonhnhaké:ton," Kaniehtí:io greeted, smiling—until she noticed the look on both Haytham and Connor's faces. "What is wrong? What's happened?" Connor then rushed to his mother.

Connor said something in a whinging tone to his mother, making Haytham roll his eyes. The boy knew his father couldn't understand him. Whatever he was saying it was sure to be something that would get him into more trouble.

Haytham clicked his tongue as his wife responded in her native tongue to their son. "Ziio, what are you and the boy saying?"

Kaniehtí:io gave Haytham a small glare. "Ratonhnhaké:ton is telling me that you have been mean to him and that you hit him."

Haytham rolled his eyes. "Yes, on his backside because he was being disobedient. He ran off from me, I caught him and he kept kicking so I swat his backside to gain his attention and to punish him for running off from me. _Then_ after I put him down he ran away from me—_again_, determined we were playing some kind of game."

Kaniehtí:io raised an eyebrow down at her young son. "Is your father right, Ratonhnhaké:ton?"

"... Yes, Ista."

"Connor, I want you to go to your room and wait for me there," Haytham ordered.

"But—"

"Ratonhnhaké:ton, do as your father says," Kaniehtí:io added. Connor gave a sullen sigh and stormed up to his bedroom. "So how do you plan to punish him?"

"With a spanking."

"Haytham, you know I don't like that punishment," Kaniehtí:io remarked.

"And you think _I_ do?" Haytham retorted, "I hate hurting the boy, of course I do, but punishments are not meant for pleasure. My own father used the same punishment on me and I was a well-behaved, obedient child. Admittedly, probably not when I was Connor's age but certainly when I was older. Ziio, I just want our son to be a good person when he grows up. I know children play but he has to be aware that the streets of Boston are nothing like your village."

"... Fine, but don't be too hard on him."

"Ten swats should serve my purpose well," Haytham said, "Agreed?"

Kaniehtí:io sighed. "Agreed."

Haytham nodded. "Right. Well, no point in wasting time." He walked past Kaniehtí:io and up the stairs to his son's bedroom. He knocked on the door gently and entered the room. Connor was nowhere to be seen. Haytham sighed. "Connor, please come out from under your bed before I have to drag you out."

A whimper was heard and sure enough, Connor crawled out from under his bed. "F-Father, I already said I'm sorry."

"Yes, Connor, I know," Haytham said, "but I still have to punish you." He sat down on the child's bed and pulled Connor onto his lap. Connor looked down and twiddled his thumbs. "Connor, you know what your punishment will be, yes?" Connor nodded. "Excellent. Now, you must know that I only do it because..." Haytham sighed; he was never good at this part. "Because you're my son and I love you. I was scared I had lost you today. I know you were only trying to play a game with me, but there's a very real danger in the streets, Connor." Connor gave him a confused look and Haytham tried to think of the best way to explain it to him. "All right, imagine it this way - do you have bears by the village?"

"Yes, Raké:ni," Connor answered simply.

"Well, imagine that the people dressed in red coats and with weapons are like bears. If they see you, alone, they will attack."

Connor gasped, "They will?"

"Yes, Connor, I'm afraid they will." He hugged the child close to him. "And one of my worst fears is losing you. So please, refrain from running away from me ever again." Haytham pressed a kiss to Connor's forehead. "Now, I have to ask you something important before I start: were you _really_ pickpocketing?" Haytham knew _none_ of his men liked Connor and sometimes they would make things up to get Connor into trouble, but Haytham always asked Connor if they were lying or not.

"No, Raké:ni," Connor replied, "I promise I wasn't."

Haytham smiled a little, flooded with relief. He _knew_ Connor wasn't some little thief. His boy would _never_ think of doing that. "Thank heavens for _that_." Then he grimaced, hating what was to happen now. "Stand up, Connor."

Alarm appeared in the boy's eyes, "But, Daddy!"

"None of that, Connor," Haytham reprimanded, "Please do as I say."

Connor pouted, but he stood up. Swiftly, Haytham began to tug down Connor's trousers followed by his pants. Connor squirmed a little but he knew better than to fight against his father at this point. Haytham then brought the boy over his lap and wrapped his arm around Connor's waist.

"Are you ready, Connor?"

Connor swallowed the lump in his throat. "Y-Yes, Raké:ni."

Haytham prepared himself - and then landed the first swat, the second, the third and then the fourth. Haytham was firm with the boy but not to the point where Connor might bruise. "Connor, why are you being punished?" He landed the fifth and Connor produced a small cry.

"B-Because I ran off!"

"And will you ever do it again?" Then the sixth swat, which got tears from Connor.

"N-No, Raké:ni, I swear!" Connor was trying hard to hide his tears, but Haytham did not care if the boy cried. He certainly shed tears when being punished by Edward.

Haytham landed the seventh swat, this one harder than the previous ones. "Good, because if you do I will use your hairbrush next time—understand?" He sent down the eigth swat. _That_ one caused Connor to start crying.

"Yes, Daddy, I understand!" Connor sobbed.

"Good." Haytham landed the last two quickly and then rubbed Connor's back as he sobbed. "Shuush, Connor, it's all over now. I'm done. You may get up if you wish." Connor lay there for a few more seconds and then he stood up, trying desperately to hide his face from his father. Haytham clicked his tongue and took Connor's hands. "Really, Connor, you should know by now that I do not care if you show your emotions in front of me," Haytham said gently, "I may be British, but I assure you we are not all the same. Do you want a hug?" Connor's reply was to fly straight to his father and cry into his chest. Haytham wrapped his arms around his little boy and rubbed his back once more. "I forgive you, as does your mother. We shall say no more of this matter and let it rest."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Connor cried—but he _was_ calming down by this point.

"I know you are, Connor," Haytham smiled, "Now, how about you redress and we go and see your mother? See if she will play with you in the back garden or something like that."

Connor nodded and redressed. "Can you not play with us, Father?"

Haytham shook his head. "Sadly, no. I have to return to the Green Dragon to the Order. I trust you'll behave for your mother?"

"Yes, Raké:ni!"

Haytham did not doubt him.

**AN: So, did you enjoy that? Honestly, I'm a bit embarrassed to upload this but I'm proud of it. If people want to think badly of me because of it then let them. **

**Yunagirlamy, 29.3.14.**


End file.
